The Longest Line
by Lucifiel
Summary: Yaoi. Yes, and the rating is not a joke either. It has Mika and Raph, but the pairing is Lucifer/Mika.
1. In the Beginning

Untitled

By: Lucifiel

Disclaimer: I don't own Angel Sanctuary. -_- This story is completely fictitious. None of my personal Angels or Demons were harmed in any way by the making of this fic. There, now that that is out of the way, let's get on with the reading.

"Shaddup! You are all too NOISY, anyways! ALWAYS mumble-mumble-mumble-mumble... Plus you LIVE on planet SEX full time! In a war, you just gotta SMASH stuff up!" ~ Michael, Angel Sanctuary

In the blackness of a large room, a red fire stirred to life. It spread throughout the room, creating the illusion of being in a heart. Everything in the room lit up, including the furniture and other knickknacks that sat on the many dressers and tables. In one corner of the room, in an enormous bed, made entirely by red sheets that hung from the ceiling, making a sort of hammock, something stirred. 

Out of the many red sheets, comforters, and pillows, a red head rose out of the pile of said sheets, comforters, and pillows. After a moment, the head grunted, the result of not getting enough sleep, and with a tentative push, rolled out of the hammock of red sheets and landed with a 'thump' on the floor. The head, apparently, belonged to a body. The thin, lanky body of a child, but a body nonetheless. Michael, Archangel of Fire, little brother of Lucifiel the Morning Star, rose to his feet and scratched his head of rust-red hair, yawning and cracking his neck. 

He had stayed up the previous night working on paperwork for some big mission. Needless to say, Michael was tired. All that nonsense about Angels not needing sleep was utter shit. He needed sleep; Hell, as a teenage Angel, he _craved_ sleep. And when he did not _get_ sleep, he got cranky. Michael in a cranky mood did not bode well for anyone.

With another ear-splitting yawn, Michael dressed, putting on his favorite pair of black pants and his black tee-shirt. Over that, he draped a red trench coat that hung down to the floor. It made swishing sounds when he walked. He'd always found that rather neat. Michael had just begun pulling his black gloves onto his miniature hands when the door to his room swung open and a stunning figure dressed in a simple brown trench coat, jeans, and a white tee shirt strode in. 

Had it been anyone else, Michael would have thrown a fit and zapped them with bolts of fire until they simply turned tail and ran, but as it was Raphael, the Angel of Wind, his most trusted and only friend, Michael decided to forgo the bolts of fire and settled for glaring in Raphael's general direction before finishing the job of tugging the gloves onto his hands.

"Oi, we have a mission today, Mika-chan, for just the two of us," Raphael said, stopping just short of Michael and putting his hands in the pockets of his trench coat. Michael ignored him and crossed the room to where his computer was stationed. Flipping the 'on' switch, Michael connected to the network from which he received mission reports and status, confirming Raphael's statement.

"We have a mission today, Raphael," He murmured, oblivious to his friend's disgust at being ignored, "Interesting…it's on Earth…"

"Earth?" Raphael inquired, "That's strange…we don't get sent to Earth very often. What are we supposed to do? All I got wind of was the fact that you and I had a mission."

A few more clicks on the keyboard and Michael was staring at a description of their mission. "We are supposed to apprehend a higher class demon. Apparently the genius's down guarding the Gates of Hell let another one slip by. Honestly…they're all a bunch of incompetent morons," He sniffed, disgusted.

"Amen to that," Raphael said, equally as disgusted. With that comment, Michael stood from his chair, grabbing his sword, which was leaning on the table, and strapping it to his back. Raphael eyed the cross-shaped broadsword, "Do you really need that?" He asked, "It really does draw unwanted attention, Mika-chan. Can't you leave it behind just this once?"

"Certainly not!" Michael looked as if someone had just asked him to leave his arms behind, so Raphael said nothing, just rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath. Michael's eyes narrowed, "What was that?" 

Raphael shrugged, "Ah nothing, just wondering if you could hold your own on _one_ mission without your gigantic sword…I guess not." 

Michael's eyes narrowed even more. "Are you saying I am a weakling because I carry a sword?"

"No, no. Why would I ever imply something of that kind? If you capitalize on that sort of thing, be my guest, Mika-chan." Raphael watched Michael out of the corner of his eye, sure of his victory. The younger Angel's pride was very important to him. Raphael doubted Michael would take his sword along this time. At least he hoped so…the sword scared the women away whenever they went for a post mission drink.

"Fine," Michael said, removing his sword and setting it on the bed, looking as if he had just lost a close friend, "But this is the _only_ time I am going to do this."

"Of course, Mika-chan," Raphael smirked, "Shall we go?"

Michael nodded, grabbing a pair of red-lensed sunglasses and propping them on his nose before trotting after Raphael. His friend sure did know the right buttons to push…

Once the two reached the lobby of Michael's apartment, they had to lower their heads. Angels tended to fly instead of use the elevators or escalators like they were supposed to, so that the Angels that _weren't_ flying didn't have to duck their heads, but, they didn't. So Michael and Raphael, two of the highest Archangels, had to lower their heads to keep from having some Angel's feet colliding with their skulls. 

"Someone should do something about that," Raphael muttered as the two exited the apartment complex and crossed one of the many golden streets, heading toward the exit. 

"Should, but won't. It isn't that big of a deal," Michael answered his friend's comment, "Not as big a deal, as, say, morons who should watch the bloody Gates of Hell instead of jacking off."

A silver light descended upon the two as soon as Michael's rather inappropriate sentence was uttered. Michael rolled his eyes, inching away, but a graceful hand reached out and caught him by the arm. "Did I hear profanity?" A silky voice said, sounding of tinkling bells and wind chimes.

"Of course not, Rosiel-sama," Michael drawled, his voice polite but had an underlying drip of sarcasm, "You know there is none of that in Heaven. No relationships, either, but here you are drooling over Raphael and myself. How _are_ you by the way?" Michael hated Rosiel with a passion. Agreed with some or most of his methods, but hated the actual person Rosiel was. It was amazing that something so beautiful could be so deadly and frightening. 

Rosiel's lips quirked up in a smirk, though his golden eyes snapped with indignation. Michael insulted him often, a grave crime though it was, yet Rosiel could do nothing, since Michael never directly insulted him. Rosiel's smirk turned into a feral grin, and he shook his head, "Ah little Michael. I am fine, thank you for asking. How is Lucifiel doing these days? I heard he was faring rather well in that little domain of his. Have you visited Hell lately?" 

Michael's fists clenched at the mention of his beloved older brother's name. Anyone who spoke that name in Michael's presence received a beating sooner or later, but Michael could do nothing to Rosiel, one of God's favorites. He had to simply bite his tongue and bear the indignation of helplessness. He was already beginning to regret leaving his sword, and wished Rosiel would just let go of his arm and leave him alone.

After what seemed like a very long time, Rosiel withdrew his hand from Michael's arm and leaned down to look into Michael's blue eyes. "No sword today? I thought you and that sword were inseparable," He mused, cupping a hand around Michael's chin and tilting his head sideways as if examining him. "Hm, well, no matter. I suppose I will be seeing the two of you later," Rosiel said, straightening and inclining his head toward Raphael, who nodded. Rosiel directed another smartass smirk at Michael, then spread his silver wings and floated off.

Raphael sighed, then continued walking. After a moment, Michael followed, trailing slightly behind his friend, thinking. "Oi," Raphael slowed, allowing Michael to catch up, and looked over at his friend. "Rosiel is getting more and more bold. He is now directly harassing you and I. Well, more you than me."

"Hai…" Michael shot a glare at Raphael, "And this on the day you make me leave my sword."

"Gomen!" Raphael said, waving his hands, "Had I known _he_ was going to show up, I would have told you to put an extra coat of polish on the damnable thing before bringing it." 

Michael shook his head, smirking, then noticed that they had arrived at the Gates of Heaven. The gatekeeper, already informed of their mission, waved them through, opening the shimmering gates to allow them passage. Once they stepped outside the Gates, Michael stretched, allowing his wings to come forth from his back through the holes in his trench coat. Raphael did the same. 

The two were truly a spectacular sight, their white wings spread to their full length, Michael's slightly smaller, but spectacular nonetheless. Without a word, Michael and Raphael leapt into the air, testing the winds and diving down towards Earth. 

Michael pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose, knowing that once they hit the Earth's winds, it would get rough. The Earth's winds were nothing like the gentle, relaxing winds of Heaven. They were ravaging, tempest tossed winds that would love nothing more than to break an Angel's wing and dump him in a field somewhere. Needless to say, they had to exercise caution when riding the Earth's winds.

Finally, however, the maneuvering was completed, and the two landed in a large cornfield just outside of Central Manhattan. Michael muttered to himself the entire time they trudged through the damnable cornfield, claiming that had he brought his sword along, they would have been able to hack their way through the said damnable cornfield in no time. Raphael said nothing, but his expression conveyed a very perturbed expression, as he was the one getting hit in the face by the cornstalks his shorter friend was able to avoid.

"What the HELL IS THAT!?!?!?" Michael exploded as his booted foot sunk into a large mud hole that happened to be conveniently placed outside of the cornfield. "IT'S ALL OVER MY SHOE!!!" He roared, his blue eyes beginning to become clouded over by a red haze. Raphael shook his head, placing a hand on Michael's shoulder and repeating the head shaking to his friend. Michael calmed with an effort and leapt over the mud hole, grinning at the last second and shoving Raphael into it. That little prank resulted in half an hour of Raphael chasing him around, but it was worth it, in Michael's opinion. He finally ended the argument by pointing out that Raphael could just use the wind to blow the dried mud off his clothes, and Raphael ended up looking like a fool. Michael: 1, Raphael: 0.

When they finally stopped screwing around, the two Archangels headed toward New York, intent on finding a place to stay before they went Demon Hunting. "We need to establish a base," Michael said to Raphael as they finally entered Manhattan. It had been a bitch to walk in from the cornfields, but they had. Now the two stood on a street corner, waiting for a cab.

"I just want to-" Raphael started, but Michael cut him off with a sharp grunt and a shake of his head.

"Aw, can it Raph, you know as well as I do that Dad doesn't want you or any of us mucking about with the humans. Or anything else for that matter. Plus, we're on duty."

"Humph, you're no fun. You never follow the rules, why do you have to be so stoic on this one?" Raphael whined as Michael succeeded in hailing a cab. "A hotel. Doesn't matter which," Raphael ordered the cab driver, who nodded and drove off.

Michael rested his head against the back of the seat and cast a dangerous glance at Raphael. "And you'd better not sneak out in the middle of the night when you think I'm asleep like you always do. This mission is important, higher level demons require much more power to catch."

Raphael shrugged, "You just miss your sword. I swear you probably fuck your sword to make up for your lack of interest in people," He said, crossing his arms and looking somewhat like a spoiled child while doing so.

"That's disgusting," Michael muttered, crinkling his nose and looking out the window, ignoring Raphael and the no-doubt disgusted cab driver. 

After about ten minutes of staring out the window, the car stopped, and the driver looked over his shoulder, holding out his hand. Michael glanced over at Raphael, who was snoring, and shook his head, reaching inside of his trench coat for his wallet. Heaven provided them with money on the rare occasions they had missions to Earth, so Michael forked over a handful of bills to the driver and elbowed Raphael.

The two stepped out of the cab and found themselves looking at what could possibly be the most run-down hotel in Manhattan. Michael wrinkled his nose as the wafting smell of drugs, sex, and fecal matter met his nostrils. Raphael looked as if he was going to be sick, and covered his mouth, gagging.

"Well that certainly was a bust, " Michael said, eying the hotel with an air of disgust. "On the other hand, someone in there might know something about the demon. Evil tends to gravitate toward places like this."

"You're not suggesting we go _in_ there?!" Raphael said, his blue eyes widening.

"No," Michael leveled a glare in Raphael's direction, then pushed his red glasses farther up onto his nose, "I am suggesting that _I_ go in there. _You_ can wait outside."

"No objections here," Raphael scoffed, "But will you be all right?"

"Need you ask?" Michael sniffed, sweeping past his friend and pushing open the grimy door. 

He was met by an unpleasant sight, 'unpleasant' being an understatement of the highest degree. In the cramped and dirty lobby of the hotel, four Russian looking men were receiving inappropriate treatment from four trashy prostitutes. A worn bar stood in the corner of the lobby, and Michael proceeded to it, sitting on a faded red barstool and surveying the scene.

No one seemed to notice the eight men and women, and were coming through the elevators and up and down the stairs, seeming to ignore the disgusting spectacle in the lobby. 

Michael watched the people, noticing the underlying weariness in all of their statures. Whores, pimps, dealers, ect. He wrinkled his nose, turning to the bar tender and quirking a red eyebrow. "Give me something hard," The bartender nodded, and Michael leaned forward, "For two hundred dollars."

"What do you need, kid?" He asked, fumbling with the drink, looking busy.

"Information. Has anyone new been through here? Anyone strange?" He took the glass the man offered him, but didn't drink.

"Come to think of it, yeah," The bartender nodded, a thoughtful look on his face, "There was a strange guy coming through here…weird looking. Pointy teeth, big build, spiky white hair."

"Appreciate it," Michael smirked, giving the man his promised money, tossing back the drink and baring his pointy teeth, "Can I get a room?"

****

"I still don't see the point of staying here," Raphael said, sprawling out over the king sized bed. "We don't even get separate beds!"

"Quit your whining. He was here. And if he was here, he'll most likely return," Michael said, as if he were trying to explain something to a small child, "And I'm not sleeping on the bed anyhow, it's probably flea-infested."

Raphael gave a yelp and flailed, falling off the bed, golden hair and long limbs waving, only to land on the floor…face to face with a large rat. His blue eye widened, and Michael covered his ears. "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!" Raphael wailed, "I want out of here NOW!!!!!"

Michael uncovered his ears and yawned, watching the sun set over the city from the small window the room sported. "Be quiet. It's nighttime. He'll be here." Raphael moaned, but a sharp glare from Michael shut him up in a hurry. "Tsh, why did you even bother coming here with me if you're just going to scream at every little thing?" Michael said, scoffing, "I can do this by myself if you want."

"Really?!" Raphael brightened, "Then I can go…uhm...out? You won't tell?"

Michael rolled his eyes, plopping down in a small folding chair that was positioned beside the window, "No, Raph, I won't tell."

"Honest?!" He grinned, standing up off the floor and brushing himself off.

"Yes, honest. I'll be fine," Michael replied, putting his feet on a nearby table and reclining.

"Arigatou Mika-chan!!" Raphael cried, lunging toward the smaller Angel and scooping him up in a hug, squeezing the air from his lungs.

"Oi!! What are you doing?! Leggo! Itai!!" Michael raved, flailing. Raphael's eyes twinkled and he dropped Michael on his ass, grinning, and ran out of the door. "Ja ne!"

Michael snorted, indignant at being treated like a child, and clambered back into his chair. "Horny bastard…" He muttered, then returned to keeping watch out of the window. Hopefully the demon would show up tonight so he could go home and sleep. And now he had no one to talk to…not that he minded, but talking to someone did pass the time quite efficiently.

After about an hour, Michael saw a figure, a _large_ figure, dressed in a black trench coat, staggering up to the hotel and dragging something. The something looked like a body. Michael stood and kicked out the window, launching himself out of it to land directly in front of the dark figure.

"What the-who the Hell are you!?!?" A drunken voice. Not a demonic voice in the slightest. Michael kicked himself for not making absolute sure that the target was in fact the target, and apologized to the drunk, jumping the five stories back up to his room. Who was the drunk going to tell anyway? Other drunks?

He was just about to sit down again when two strong arms wrapped around his stomach, pinning his arms to his sides. Michael squirmed, fought, kicked, and struggled until he was panting with effort, but the arms held fast. "Are you quite finished?" A rough demonic voice asked.

"No," He snorted, closing his eyes and emitting a yell. With the yell came several thousand degrees worth of fire bolts that shot into the demon holding him, making it fly backwards and release its hold on him. Michael spun around only to see the charred remains of an upper class demon. He didn't like it. The situation had been far too easy.

"Mm, of course, what did you expect?" Came a silky voice from the corner of the room. Michael froze, turning to face Rosiel with the most dignity he could muster.

"Rosiel-sama…it acted on orders from you? What was the point of doing something like that?" Michael asked, actually curious as to why Rosiel would let a higher class demon roam free.

Rosiel chuckled, spreading his magnificent trio of wings and flitting forward, resting his hand on the shorter Archangel's head. "Ah Michael, you pretty young thing…haven't you guessed?"

Michael's blue eyes narrowed and he took a step back, "I don't get it, Rosiel-sama."

"Of course not, dear boy…"Rosiel smiled, placing his other hand on Michael's hip, guiding him closer. Michael blanched, his blue eyes widening out of their cat-like slits.

"Rosiel-sama…what, what are you-" Michael was silenced as Rosiel leaned down and devoured his mouth, kneading the pliant flesh of his lips. "Mmph!!!!!" Michael let out strangled cry, squirming and trying to tug away.

With a tiny smile, Rosiel broke off the kiss, leaving the stunned boy weaving on his feet. He placed a hand on Michael's shoulder, then got a frightening look on his face. He swung his fist, intending to knock Michael unconscious.

Michael, however, was an Angel of War as well as Fire. He brought his arm up in one swift motion, blocking Rosiel's strike. "Why Rosiel-sama," He smirked, "Whatever do you think you are doing?"

Rosiel's golden eyes narrowed, and he squeezed Michael's shoulder, his fingernails digging through the red fabric of Michael's trench coat, "You would deny me, Michael?"

"Hai," He answered, breaking Rosiel's grip and twisting away, "My job here is finished. And don't think Father won't hear about this." Michael turned to leave, but Rosiel flipped over his head, landing in front of him, a strange look on his face.

"Father won't be hearing anything from you," Rosiel growled, a silver sword appearing in his hand. He thrust it under Michael's chin, "Too bad you left your sword, ne?"

Michael blanched, "You're going to kill me?"

"No. But you'll wish you were dead when I'm through with you, little one. No one scorns me and escapes unscathed," He said, tracing Michael's jaw line with the tip of his sword.

"Hm. I'll bet."

Rosiel grinned, "Like your brother to the last, ne, Michael? Was he as stoic when you cast him out of Heaven?"

Michael felt a low growl form in his throat, "I had no choice in the matter."

"Of course not, little one. I'm sure he's forgiven you for casting him out, " Rosiel smirked, "Do you think he would save you from me?"

"That is not my concern. I don't need anyone watching out for me," He whispered, "Not even him."

"Poor little thing," Rosiel said, "I'll relieve you of your guilt. You shouldn't have refused me," He raised the sword and Michael tensed, ready to dodge, when a whistling sound was heard, and Rosiel's sword was halted, and crossed with another sword, one with a black ornate blade.

Michael was in mid-spin when a black cape was thrown over his head and a strong arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him close. He squirmed, unsure of who was holding him, and a cheek pressed against his own through the fabric of the cape. A thick voice whispered, "Quiet." Michael stiffened, recognizing the voice, but not quite able to place it.

"You!!" Rosiel gasped, swiping at Michael's savior, who parried, still holding Michael around the waist, and thrusted, catching Rosiel in the shoulder.

"Who else?" The thick voice answered back, uncaring, almost comical. In the next instant, Rosiel leapt forward, tackling both Michael and his savior. Michael went flying and slammed into the wall, the cape still covering his head and blocking his vision. 

A moment later, Michael heard scuffling, and Rosiel cried out, then strong arms lifted him up and cuddled him against a hard, muscular chest. "Who-" Michael started, his voice muffled buy the cape, but a squeeze from his savior told him to stop talking. He did so, if only out of gratitude and respect.

He felt himself being carried out of the room, and after a moment felt the cold night air on his skin. Michael blushed, thinking what Raphael would do if he saw Michael in his current position. As if on cue, the cheek was again pressed to his own, whispering, "He doesn't know, yet. Brace yourself."

"What-" He was cut off by another quick squeeze, and Michael gasped as he felt a sudden drop, unfurling his winds and flailing. "Who the Hell ARE you?!" He yelped, flailing more, "I demand to know the meaning of this! You could have just fought Rosiel and LEFT! Where are you taking me!?"

The man carrying him didn't answer, and as sudden as the descent started, it stopped. Michael was carried into a room of some sort and dropped onto what he sensed was a bed. A bed with silk sheets and pillows. The cape was then removed from his head, and Michael's blue eyes widened. "L-Lucifer-sama?!?" He gaped, unable to comprehend what had just taken place. Lucifer…had saved him!? He retracted his wings and blinked.

"Hai," His brother flashed his famous smartass smirk, "You expected someone else?" He brushed his silky black hair out of his ebony eyes and turned the smirk into a well-rounded grin.

"Well…I don't know," Michael said, still in shock, sitting up on the bed, "But I didn't expect you."

"Hm, well, here I am. Or here you are, I should say. I wasn't informed of your entry this time, I nearly got there too late."

"Ah he wouldn't have done anything too serious."

Lucifer's black eyes widened and he leaned back on the silken sheets. "Ah Michael, you _are_ naive…he was planning on raping you. My, my…you are lucky I got there in time to save you."

"EH??!?" Michael shot up, his blue eyes wide, "You can't be serious!!!!! ROSIEL!? Rape me?!?! WHY?!"

"Why?" Lucifer snickered, "You don't need motivation to rape someone. Rape is an act of violence, committed, usually, in the heat of passion. It is someone wanting to control another, to possess what they have. In your case, your sexual innocence," Lucifer explained, stifling a yawn as if he were talking about the weather.

Michael couldn't believe how close he'd come to being raped, and laid next to Lucifer, staring up at the ceiling. "Well what am I supposed to do?! He lives in Heaven just like me, and I can't do anything because Father favors him above all others! He'd just deny that anything happened, and I can't go beat him up, because he'd go tell."

"That is true, Rosiel is an unimaginable weakling when it comes to fighting his own battles," Lucifer said, waving his hand, projecting an air of unconcern. "If he tries anything else, you are always welcome here, Michael."

"Then…you aren't-"

"No, no, of course not. How could I be angry at you? It is your job, after all. Don't worry about it, shrimp," Lucifer smirked, grabbing Michael in a headlock and giving him a noogie. 

"AUGH!!" Michael yelped, "You are DEAD, Lucifer!!!" He squirmed, trying to get free of his older brother…and not succeeding. Lucifer didn't answer, just tightened his grip, pinning Michael onto the bed and straddling his back, grinning. 

"Say it!"

"No!"  


"Say it!"

"Never!" 

Lucifer twisted Michael's arm at a painful angle, "SAY IT, SHRIMP!"

"Augh! NEVER!" Michael yelled, wincing at the torture. Lucifer looked pouty, but brightened in an instant and traced Michael's side, then dug a finger into the area between his hip and rib cage. Michael emitted a half-shriek half-scream, laughing like a crazy person. Lucifer was tickling him just like he used to. 

"Say it!!!!"

"All right, All right!!!!!" He all but screamed, "I'm a shrimp!!!!!" 

Lucifer rolled off of Michael, chuckling to himself, leaving his little brother gasping for breath on his stomach from the 'torture'. "You suck," Michael murmured into the silken covers, still panting.

"Mm. Your point?"

"That's disgusting, Lucifer-sama."

"Mm. Your point?"

"…"

"You should try being evil for once, Michael, it really is great fun," Lucifer tucked his arms behind his head, "And can be quite pleasurable."

"Not everything is pleasurable, Lucifer-sama," Michael mumbled, his face still buried in the sheets.

"But it can be."

"Tsh, whatever."

"Would you like me to show you?" Lucifer's voice took on a sly cast to it, and Michael raised his head, a bleary look to his blue eyes. "Eh?!"

"I said," Lucifer grinned, moving closer to Michael and tracing his cheek, "Would you like me to show you how pleasurable some things can be?"

Michael blinked, then sat up, rubbing his eyes. "But…you're my brother."

"Mm hm. Your point?"

"Well…that's not…uhm…"

"Right?" 

"Yeah. That," Michael blushed, running a hand through his rusty red hair.

"Oh Michael, you're in Hell. If anyone asks, I raped you, all right?" Lucifer grinned, "What are they going to do to me? Label me the Devil? They've already done that. Come on, let me show you what you're missing."

"Well…I don't know…" Michael started, but Lucifer's mouth silenced him, tasting nothing like Rosiel's harsh kiss, and shutting him up quite nicely. He succumbed instantly, letting Lucifer lay him down on the bed and slip off the red trench coat he wore. Lucifer smirked, breaking the kiss and sucking on Michael's neck, letting his hands play with his red hair. "Lucifer…" Michael whispered, "I should…be getting back…Raphael, he'll-"

"I'll have you back in time, don't worry," Lucifer cut in, tugging off Michael's shirt and pants, throwing them over his shoulder, "You need this, shrimp."

To be continued…


	2. The War

The Longest Line, Chapter II

By: Lucifiel  
Disclaimer: Still don't own them. I wasn't lying the first time. And thank you for all the nice reviews…I suppose I had better write this chapter before I am slaughtered and someone else writes it…rabid AS fans…-_-;;

A note: 'Mortus' means Death in Latin. 

After the two had finished, Mika laid in Lucifer's arms under the black sheets, his head resting against his brother's broader chest, his own chest rising and falling with effort, and sweat glistening on his forehead. 

Lucifer leaned down and planted a kiss on Michael's cheek, hugging the boy closer against him and feeling his heartbeat. Lucifer, on the other hand…had no heartbeat. A tiny pang of jealousy pricked him before he squashed it. He'd made his own choice when he'd fallen, and feelings such as jealousy were not permitted. At least not in his case. 

He looked down at his little brother, who seemed to be in a half-sleeping state, his blue eyes slitted and the boyish face distant. Lucifer smirked. Had he really been that good? Of course he had. He was Lucifer, after all. 

The Prince of Darkness watched as Michael stirred, then cupped a hand to his cheek, bringing his little brother's lips into a sweet kiss and stirring him out of his sleepy state. "Did you have a good rest?" He asked after the kiss was broken. Michael rose, a little dazed still, but looked happy and content.

"Hai," His little brother answered, laying back and smiling up at him. Lucifer almost devoured him then and there. Michael, when he was staring up at him in such an innocent manner, completely and utterly trusting…it almost made him happy. Almost. 

Lucifer sat up, smirking, "I suppose I should send you back, ne?" Michael's saddened glance almost made Lucifer wince. Almost. But of course, such feelings and actions were also not permitted. "Ah, don't look at me that way. You know you can't stay here…"

"Hai." 

The longing in that statement made Lucifer want to take Michael again, just to reassure the boy that Lucifer was not just screwing around like always, that he actually cared. As much as he could care anyway, and would love nothing more than to keep Michael forever. But Michael was an Archangel…he was important in the scheme of things in Heaven, and Lucifer had no desire to fight another war over his little brother, however much he loved him.

Michael rose, pulling on his boxers, pants, t-shirt, and finally shrugged on his trench coat and pulled on his gloves, replacing the red glasses as well. When he had finished, Michael shot an expecting glance at Lucifer. 

The Dark Prince rose out of bed, his outfit solidifying onto his body as he did so, and Lucifer gathered Michael up in a tight embrace, then opened a portal and shoved the young Archangel into it before he could say more; Lucifer hated goodbyes…it was easier for both of them that way.

****

Michael awoke to a mangy, flea-ridden dog lapping at his face. He shoved the dog away and sat up, feeling cold rain slide down his back, and pulled his coat closer, standing up and depositing his glasses in an inside pocket. It had to be daytime, the clouds were covering the sun, but he had been with Lucifer for at least a full night, that he was certain of. 

He couldn't place his feelings at the moment…the young angel had never been touched in the manner Lucifer had been touching him, and did not know what to think. So he didn't. Michael turned and found himself looking at the musty hotel, wondering if Raphael had come back yet.

His question was answered when he heard a rain-slicked sleeve rustle, and on reflex, Michael ducked the fist aimed at his head. His instincts rang true; and Michael turned to see Raphael glaring at him, his fists clenched. "What?"

"What do you mean WHAT? Where have you been?!" Raphael said, the icy blue glare turning into a full-on glower, "I have been worried sick!!"

"You sound like a women," Michael muttered, pushing past Raphael and walking up the street, not really intending to go anywhere, just walking for the sake of walking.

Raphael followed, as Michael had figured he would, and grabbed his arm, "OH no you don't, we have another mission."

"Another one?" Michael mused, stopping his movement and pondering, "Well? What is it?"

"Section D-5 of the Plains of Hell…we're assigned to put down a minor demonic rebellion."

"And..?"

"And…Rosiel's assigned to be our commander…"

Michael's voice stuck to the back of his throat, refusing to come forth at that statement. If Lucifer hadn't come when he did… He shook his head, clearing up the muddy thoughts that were screaming at him not to take the mission, "Our…commander?" The young Archangel managed to ask, "I though Uriel was our General."

"Oh he'll be there too…" Raphael trailed off, thinking, "Come to think of it, so will Gabriel," He ticked off the names on his fingers, "Uriel, Gabriel, Rosiel, you, and me. Oh and Mortus is scheduled to be present as well."

"Death? What for?"

"I'm as curious as you are," Raphael shrugged, "Guess we should get going."

"Wait," Michael shook his head, "This doesn't make sense. All four Archangels, Rosiel, and Death? Just to put down a minor demonic rebellion on the D-5 Plains of Hell?"

Raphael rolled his eyes, "Mika-chan, I don't think we should question orders. Again. Let's just go, all right?"

Michael spun and glowered at the Archangel of Wind, "Don't tell me what to do! I'm not a coward, Raphael!!!!!"

His friend backed up at the sudden outburst, waving his hands, "I didn't say that! Oh and we are supposed to check back into Heaven before we go. It will give you a chance to get your sword, ne?"

"Hai…" Michael nodded, still suspicious. He'd have to check out the mission on his own computer…Raphael tended to screw things up occasionally…especially on nights when he 'went out'. 

The two took a cab outside the city and hiked back through the corn field, stepping in the same mud hole as before, and after much cursing and pummeling, the two managed to finally spread their wings and fly back up through Earth's atmosphere to Heaven. 

The Gatekeeper waved the two through without so much as a glance, and Michael and Raphael split up; Raphael going to the throne room to report, and Michael returning to his room to collect his sword and check out the mission objectives.

Of course, it was nothing like Raphael had relayed it. Michael's blue eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat. The mission was to eradicate Lucifer. HE was leading the offending army of higher demons…not a small demonic rebellion. The mission, however, stated that the attack had been one-sided, and that the Angels had struck first, that Lucifer was only retaliating. "It was us?!" Michael breathed. Hell had been dormant, there had been no reason to attack them…none.

Michael clicked a few more keys on the keyboard and stood, turning his computer off and changing into battle attire. Lucifer or no Lucifer, a mission was a mission. The dragon tattoo on his face seemed to glow in anger at that particular train of thought, but Michael ignored it. He pulled on a pair of baggy black pants and tugged on a white wife beater. It would be a hard battle; he didn't need any acess clothing getting in his way. After that was done, Michael made sure his cross earring was secure, strapped his sword to his back, and exited the room, running straight into Uriel.

Uriel looked stern, then leaned down to pat Michael on the head, "I haven't seen you in a while," He smiled, "How are you?"

Despite Michael's dislike of being treated like a child, he managed to smirk back, "All right, Uriel, and you?"

"Fine, fine. Are you ready? Raphael is already with Mortus, Gabriel, and Rosiel. All we need is you."

"Uriel, will an army of angels be accompanying us?" Michael asked, trotting a little to keep up with the tall General.

"Hai, Michael, Father wouldn't slaughter us. Are you frightened?"

"No," Michael said, shooting a glare up at Uriel and walking a little faster. The two ducked their heads to avoid the flying angels in the lobby and exited the building, walking along the golden streets until they reached the gates, where an angelic army was assembled. Rosiel, Raphael, Gabriel, and Mortus stood in front of the army, looking beautiful in shining clothing, their wings spread. All except Mortus, who was shrouded in black, her back sporting no wings, and a scythe held in her right hand. Michael smirked and bowed to her. "Good morning, Death-sama. You'll be fighting with us for this one?"

"I have not yet decided who's side I am on," Mortus replied in the matter-of-fact tone she always sported, "You are looking well, Michael."

"Thanks," He said, smiling up at Mortus. She was a beautiful woman, being Death and all. Her long black hair hung down past her knees, and her eyes were a deep ebony, one felt as if they were drowning if they looked into them too long. A tall woman, Death towered over Michael at 6'3.

Raphael smiled at Mortus, who did not return the gesture, and Michael knew why. When they had been younger Raphael had…well, Michael preferred not to dwell on some of the things Raphael had done when he was younger. Michael glanced over at Rosiel, who smirked at him, and the young angel looked away. Rosiel was just too insane for his taste.

Gabriel came forward and fixed Michael with a warm smile, stroking his red hair as if he were a cat of some sort, "Michael. I have not seen you for a very long time," She lifted his chin so she could look at him, "You haven't changed a bit."

Michael grinned, showing his pointy fangs, "I don't plan on changing any time soon."

Gabriel was beautiful as well, but in a kinder, gentler, way. Not nearly as regal or terrifying as Mortus, but she still stood taller than Michael, and her sky blue hair fell in soft curls around her shoulders, pulled back from her face by a silver headband. She wore a shining blue robe that was buckled at her waist with a sword belt, and an ornate scabbard with a silver sword in it hung at her side. "Of course not, dear boy," She giggled, winking at him before retreating to talk to Uriel. 

After a few more minutes of socializing, Rosiel spread his magnificent trio of wings and flitted into the air, holding the same sword he had held to Michael's throat the night before. "Comrades in arms, we go now to eradicate a threat that has been terrorizing innocent humans and angels for centuries. Let us depart!" Rosiel cried, leading the host of angels to the plains.

On the trip, Michael had to work extra hard to keep up with the other, older angels, since they had larger, more adept wings. After about half an hour of fast, hard flying, they landed on the Plains. At first, it seemed like there was not a thing in sight for miles, but the Plains shifted and cracked, and demons started coming out of the ground like ants. Deadly, carnivorous, ants. Michael spread his wings and leapt into the air, slashing a demon in half and turning to set five more on fire with a glance. 

The battle was horrible; Angel and Demons dying left and right, everything in complete and utter chaos. Michael was busy with ten demons who were trying to pull him back down into the squirming mass of Demons and Angels, and fried every one of the demons that came in contact with him. 

His adrenaline was soaring, and when a higher class Demon fired a blast of ice magic at him, Michael batted it away and sliced the offending Demon in half, grinning like a manic and blasting the remains of it into rubble. After he had dispersed about fifteen more of the higher class demons, Raphael spread his wings and flew next to him, "Mika-chan, how are you holding up?"

"Fine," Michael grunted, his wife beater half torn off and several large chunks of his baggy pants ripped away. Raphael raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, fighting back-to-back with Michael. 

After another four hours of fighting, it became clear that the Demons didn't stand a chance. "Where is Lucifer?" Raphael murmured, "Didn't the mission say he would be leading them?"

Michael and Raphael's eyes widened at the same time, "That wasn't their main forces!!!" Raphael gasped, "We've got to tell Rosiel and Uriel to get the troops out of here!"

"You do that," Michael nodded, "I'll hold them back in the air." Raphael put a hand on Michael's shoulder, then dove down, looking for their commanders. Michael flapped his wings, leading about seventeen higher class demons away from Raphael, and blasting them with fire, making all but one incinerate. 

The demon rammed into Michael before the Angel had a chance to maneuver, and knocked the wind out of him, slashing at his chest and opening a large wound, spurting blood everywhere. Michael squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip; he wouldn't cry. That was something he could not afford to do at the present time. It would show his enemy his weakness, and that was forbidden at all times.

He righted himself, holding his chest with one hand and raising his sword with the other. "Come on you scum," Michael said, grinning and baring his fangs. The demon roared and the two rushed toward each other. At the last moment, Michael spun underneath the demon and rushed upwards, slicing him in half from the bottom up. 

Five more demons of the same caliber rushed towards him, and Michael screamed, emitting enough energy to fry them all. Raphael appeared in front of him after that, "Mika-chan, come on! Uriel says we're to pull out! Let's go!" He tugged at Michael's sleeve, and distracted him for a moment.

A moment was all it took.

Six demons rushed the two Archangels, and Raphael, with his superior wings, managed to get out of the way in time. Michael, on the other hand, was not so lucky. The six demons slammed into him, opening new wounds and old, and Michael fell towards the ground, which was a writhing mass of demons, unconscious. 

***

Raphael gasped when he saw what had happened to his young friend, and flapped his wings, intending to catch Michael before he hit the ground, but fifteen demons rushed him, and Raphael found himself unable to get to Michael. 

The boy fell, his body and wings limp, and Raphael screamed his name, but Michael made no reply. And it was all because of him…it was his fault Michael had become distracted. "Mika!!!!!" 

Several demons swept toward the boy, intent on cutting him to pieces, but parted when an elegant figure dressed in black, with beautiful black wings swept down and caught the young Archangel of Fire, scooping Michael up in his arms like a precious jewel. "Lucifer…" Raphael gasped. 

To be Continued…


	3. The End of the Beginning

The Longest Line, Chapter III

The Longest Line, Chapter III

By Lucifiel

Disclaimer: I don't own Angel Sanctuary or any of its characters. This we know. Get on with it.

Raphael didn't spend any more time gaping than his astonishment would allow him, and dove down into the battle, looking for Uriel or Rosiel, one or the other. Uriel, preferably. 

After a few more moments of searching, Raphael found the General, slicing five higher class demons in half with a blow. Raphael landed ran to him, "Sir!! Lucifer is here! He...he has Michael, sir!"

"What?! How could you let this happen, Raphael!?" Uriel rounded on him, his eyes flashing. "This could spell disaster for all of us! You know we can't afford to lose an Archangel!"

"H-hai, Uriel-sama..." Raphael bowed his head, miserable, "It all happened so fast...I..I..." He trailed off, unable to say more for fear of appearing weak in front of his General.

"Never mind," Uriel said, placing a hand on Raphael's shoulder, "I am sure you tried your best. But...we must retreat. I will find Michael."

Raphael's head snapped up, "Sir, I request permission to come with you."

Uriel's face became stern, and his eyes glinted, "I cannot lose two Archangels, you need to st-"

"Sir!!" Raphael protested, "It was my fault that Mika got captured in the first place!! Please let me make it up to him!!" Uriel looked as he was going to say no again, but Raphael's blue eyes widened and he grabbed Uriel's sleeve, "Please!!"

Uriel made his descision and nodded, "All right, but stay behind me." Raphael nodded and followed Uriel into the air. The two were joined a moment later by Rosiel, who grinned and claimed he wanted a peice of Lucifer as well. Uriel couldn't tell Rosiel no, considering the Inorganic Angel outranked him, so they flew in silence.

The trio dodged flying debris, limbs, and various entrails before they saw Lucifer, still holding Michael, fighting off a group of angels with a hand, and winning. Michael was still unconscious, Raphael saw, cringing. What if he...no. Raphael shook his head. He couldn't think that; he wouldn't think that. 

After Lucifer was finished with the angels, he looked up just in time to see Raphael, Uriel, and Rosiel land in front of him. Raphael's eyes narrowed at the Dark Prince, but Lucifer ignored Raphael, focusing his frightening black stare on Rosiel. The tension was so thick not even Michael's sword could have cut through it...until Rosiel broke the silence, wearing one of his smug grins. "Ah Lucifer...it has been a long time." Silence. "Well seeing as we've lost, and you are going to be deploying your main forces if we don't leave, might we have our little Archangel back?"

Lucifer's face, which had remained stony and impassive before Rosiel's speech, grew taut with anger, "So you can try and rape him again? I think not."

Rosiel's amber eyes narrowed and he fingered his shoulder, "That is none of your business, scum."

"Isn't it?" Lucifer asked, scoffing, "He is under my protection, I think it is my business if a deranged Inorganic Angel tries to rape him, ne?"

Raphael's eyes darted back and forth from Lucifer, to Michael, to Rosiel. Was that what had happened to his young friend when he had been gone? Had Rosiel tried to rape him, and Lucifer had intervened? Had Lucifer gone so far as to-

"Fool," Rosiel growled, "Would you deny me what is rightfully mine?!"

"Rightfully? How is Michael yours? Now I'm curious," Lucifer's thin lips turned up in a smirk, taunting Rosiel, who clenched his fists and said nothing. "Mm. That's what I thought. You claim that he is yours for the sole purpose of wanting to own him and his innocence. Perhaps I should resign, you make a better Satan then I ever could hope to be, Rosiel-sama."

Uriel, who, throughout the entire exchange had stood silent, now spoke up. "Lucifer, I understand your concerns, and I assure you," The General shot a glare at Rosiel, "I will take steps to make sure this will never happen again."

Lucifer sighed, "Of course, Uriel, you say this now, and you feel the conviction now, but when you return to your beautiful city of light, all of this will become a memory, and the promises you made will seem unimportant. I know how you Angel's minds work. I was one. No," He smirked, "I think I will keep my brother, thank you."

Raphael clenched and unclenched his fists, wanting to say something but knowing whatever he said wouldn't make the slightest dent of an impact. All he could of was that this was his fault. He had left Michael by himself on the mission, thus subjecting his young friend to Rosiel's lust and who knew what Lucifer had done, and he had distracted Michael, causing the demons to slam into him and deliver the boy straight into Lucifer's hands. The guilt was almost unbearable, and Raphael felt as if he would tear apart with grief. "Mika-chan..." He whispered, a tear slipping out of his eye, "I am so sorry..."

Lucifer's smirk turned into a grin, but at that moment Michael stirred, his blue eyes opening a fraction, then widening all the way when he saw Lucifer. "Lucifer-sama..." He murmured, bringing up a hand to his brother's chest and smiling. 

Smiling...?

Raphael looked closer, and saw that Michael's smile was genuine. He was happy to see Lucifer! Just what had Lucifer done to Michael? As if to answer Raphael's unspoken question, Lucifer looked up and smiled, "He is staying with me," Then set Michael down, waving a hand and handing him his sword, conjured up from God knows where...

"What?!!" Rosiel's amber eyes shook and glared at Lucifer, "You...you've had him, haven't you?!!?" 

Lucifer smiled, "Hai, Rosiel-sama," Then put a hand on Michael's shoulder, and to emphasise his point, kissed Michael ever-so-sweetly on the lips, then pulled away, wearing his ever-present smartass smirk. Rosiel was so angry he could have spit, and Raphael snickered, seeing the humor in it all in a second.

He turned to Michael and grinned, winking, "Well you certainly got a good deal, Mika-chan, Lucifer's well-endowed, ne? I don't suppose...you'd let me come?"

Michael grinned back, looking up at Lucifer and asking the question with his eyes. Lucifer looked from Raphael to Michael and nodded. Raphael crossed over to Michael and smiled at Uriel and Rosiel. "Gomen...but if Michael's going, so I am."

Lucifer smiled and waved, scooping up Michael and opening a portal, stepping into it, Raphael following. The portal remained for a moment, then closed, leaving Rosiel and Uriel alone with the battlefield of demons and angels. 

The End.

Heh heh heh. That was fun...


End file.
